


One Good Turn

by Syntaxeme



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Coercion, Deep kisses, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Physical Abuse, Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Possessive Behavior, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Repaying Debt, Sex for Favors, Valentino Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 732





	1. Old Habits

Despite having been in business for a matter of some months, the hotel still had few committed residents—other than its staff, of course. Still, Charlie was dedicated to the cause, treating their seven hopefuls with as much care as 70. Alastor still had little to no faith in her intentions, but observing and ‘aiding’ her efforts was turning out every bit as entertaining as he’d expected. He was even growing used to the company of their merry band of misfits. Some more than others, maybe.

During yet another group rehabilitation session, Alastor stood by at a distance to watch. Their ‘patrons’ had all gathered into a conference room just off the lobby, everyone seated in a circle of chairs while Charlie and Vaggie led a conversation on the reasons each demon was drawn to sin, the voids they might be trying to fill and how they might find ‘healthier’ ways to do so.

“Hey, if you’re lookin’ for ways to fill holes, I’m your guy,” Angel Dust said with a devious grin. “I got ideas for days, princess; you just say the word and I’ll be more than happy to share. Might even give ya a demonstration if you’re lucky.”

“Angel, we’ve talked about this,” Charlie sighed, dragging a hand down her face before replacing her usual kind smile. “You’re doing so well with cutting back on drugs and alcohol. If you could tone down the lust just a _tiny_ bit—”

“Hang on,” one of the other patrons said, eyes locked on Angel and wandering up and down his lissome body. “I wanna hear what he has in mind.”

“Oh, I bet you do, baby,” Angel purred, ignoring Charlie’s reprimand altogether. Alastor remained where he stood, tilting his head slightly to one side, observing the exchange thoughtfully. Angel had his faults, that was for sure, but—at least when dealing with weaker-willed demons—he clearly had a certain charisma as well. It was a bit boring how transparent he was about his intentions. But then, he’d already identified his preferred form(s) of entertainment and spent his time pursuing them, which was understandable.

When the conference room’s door slammed open, everyone in the circle jumped at the sudden sound, but Alastor simply raised his eyes in that direction, looking over the large, musclebound demon who had just entered the room. Only a split-second later, he saw the nervous tension that had filled Angel Dust’s body at the sight. _Interesting._

“Angel,” the new arrival said as if no one else were present, watching him through a pair of dark sunglasses. “Boss wants a word.”

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Angel said, brushing off his discomfort and replacing his nonchalant façade as he got up.

“Hang on,” Charlie called, getting up to follow him toward the door and explain to the other demon, “We’re kind of in the middle of something here. Could he—”

The new arrival ignored her completely and turned to leave now that Angel was following. “Sorry,” he muttered quietly, giving her an apologetic grimace. “You can keep goin’ without me. I was just makin’ this harder for everyone anyway.” Even the racy tone of that last comment seemed weaker than usual.

“But Angel…” Charlie frowned and watched him go, realizing her words weren’t reaching him. For some reason, seeing the crestfallen look on her face bothered Alastor, and his smile slipped.

Striding across the room to meet her, he rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “The others need your guidance, dear. Leave this to me.” Without waiting for an answer, he followed after Angel and walked at his side, twirling his microphone through one hand. “Where are we off to, my friend? Here I thought you were dedicated to improving yourself. Is this someone you know?” He nodded to the hulking demon leading them toward the hotel’s entrance.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Angel muttered noncommittally, his body language uncharacteristically muted. “This is just somethin’ I gotta do. I’ll be back later.”

“And is there a reason you have to do it now?” As they stepped outside, Alastor found a long, shining burgundy-painted limousine waiting in front of the hotel. The windows were so darkly tinted he couldn’t begin to see inside, but he sensed the presence of a powerful demon. _All the more interesting._ “Who is this ‘boss’ your associate mentioned?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that. Charlie does have expectations, you know,” he pointed out, “whether she’s willing to press you on them or not. I’m sure you’re aware of how important this is to her. She needs you to you—”

“Will you get off my back?” Angel snarled, rounding on him, all four fists clenched. His entire body was fully tense, his face set in a vicious glower tinged with fear. “I don’t have a choice here, all right? It’s got nothin’ to do with you, so just mind your goddamn business!” Alastor raised his eyebrows, silent, unsure of what could be going on that would frazzle the usually-flexible Angle Dust into panicking so.

“Angel!” A deep, smooth voice called out from inside the limo, and Angel flinched. Letting out a low, slow breath, he drew his shoulders back and strolled over to enter the limo as if nothing were wrong. Once he was inside, the large demon slammed the door shut, then sneered at Alastor and went back to the driver’s seat.

Alastor stood by and watched them leave, his smile fading more and more with every passing second. Perhaps they hadn’t known each other for too terribly long, in demonic terms, but in the months since their meeting, he had seen Angel’s person be threatened with physical harm several times—yet not _once_ had Alastor seen him so frightened, so visibly uncomfortable as in these past few moments. Whoever sat in the darkened interior of that limousine must have had some considerable control over him. Yet who could, how, and why?

“Damn it. I thought he was done with this,” Vaggie muttered, materializing at his side, frowning hard, arms crossed.

“Oh? You know what’s going on here, then?”

“Unfortunately,” she said, disapproval written all over her face. “I’m pretty sure that was Valentino. Angel’s pimp—or ‘manager’ or whatever you want to call him. Ever since he came to stay with us, I really thought he’d cut things off with Valentino, but I guess old habits die hard.” Something in her frown was less irritated and more concerned. Unusual to see from her.

“And…?” Alastor prompted. “Somehow, I’m getting the impression that there’s more to it.”

After a moment more of hesitation, she admitted, “He’s only told me a little about Val. He obviously doesn’t like talking about him or their relationship. But what I’ve heard is… I don’t know, it makes me nervous.”

Well, Alastor didn’t much care for the sound of that either. “Come on, now, don’t leave it there; you know I can’t resist a good story,” he said, his mouth still smiling though his eyes had turned cold. “And I’m sure Charlie doesn’t appreciate her star pupil being stolen away! So tell me, what else do you know about Valentino? I’m all ears.”


	2. What's Easy or What's Right

Angel sat quietly in the limo, not daring to speak even though he could feel Valentino’s eyes on him. Val’s cold smile was in place, as usual, his gaze as intense as ever…but he didn’t speak. Not yet. Much to Angel’s dismay, he waited nearly half an hour, until they’d reached the studio again, to say any more.

“Angel cakes,” he purred, gesturing toward the door as the limo came to a stop. “Go on inside, baby.” Despite knowing it was stupid, knowing there was nothing good waiting for him in there, Angel sidled out of the car and strutted inside as if he wasn’t aware that all of Val’s thugs were watching. Or maybe _because_ he was aware. When he got inside and upstairs, he found a couple of Val’s recent favorite girls sitting by on one of many plush couches and watching him expectantly.

“What’re you bitches lookin’ at?” he growled, sneering at them disdainfully, and they giggled at his anger. Who the hell did they think they were? Who the hell did they think _he_ was? As if he hadn’t made Val more money in the last five years than they would over their entire careers combined.

“You better watch that mouth, honey.” Val’s voice sent a cold chill up his spine, and he turned quickly to see the boss strolling into the room, self-assured as always. Striding over to the couch to stroke one long, thin hand over one of the girls’ hair, he went on, “Champagne and Sherry ain’t the ones in hot water here. They been keepin’ me company since you up and walked out on us.”

Angel rolled his eyes, hating himself for being jealous of Val’s attention. “Great. Well if ya like their _company_ so much, what do ya need mine for?”

“What’d I just tell you?” In a flash of movement, no warning at all, Valentino closed the distance and grasped Angel’s throat roughly in one hand, lifting him off the floor despite his height. “You been away from me too damn long if you think you can shoot your mouth off without me doin’ somethin’ about it.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Angel gasped, all four hands grasping at Val’s arm, trying in vain to pry his hand away. Angel might’ve been scrappy, he might’ve been capable, but in terms of strength, he was nothing compared to Val—and he had the scars to prove it. Remembering a thousand punishments in the past, he quickly went into full submissive mode and panted, “I know better, Daddy. I’ll be good, okay? I swear.”

After a moment more of restricting his airway, Val let out an irritated “tsk” and released him, letting him collapse to the floor. A snap of his fingers sent Champagne and Sherry from the room, leaving the two of them alone, and he wandered away to seat himself on the thick-cushioned couch against the far wall, spreading his arms out over the back of it.

“The fuck is this shit I’m hearin’ about you at Princess Purity’s little redemption parade?” the boss demanded, all charm utterly void from his voice, all efforts at false sweetness dropped. He crossed one leg over the other and drummed his fingers along the couch’s arm. “You been outta the studio for months, not even workin’ the streets, just sittin’ around on your ass at that joke she calls a hotel. If you’re not makin’ money, I’m not makin’ money, baby. So what am I supposed to do here? What do you think?”

“You got other girls,” Angel pointed out, rubbing his throat absently while he tried to catch his breath. “I ain’t your only moneymaker.”

“No, just the biggest. You know what you are to me, Angel.” Valentino leaned back against the couch and patted his thigh. After a moment of hesitation and an impatient sneer on the boss’s lips, Angel Dust forced himself up and went to sit on the couch next to Val—but Val was unsatisfied and pulled Angel over to rest in his lap instead, fingers deliberately combing through pale pink hair. “Don’t tell me that goody-goody daughter of Lucifer’s has got you thinkin’ you’re Heaven-bound.”

“Yeah, as if,” Angel scoffed, ignoring the chilled pit in his chest. The hurt and disappointment he felt weren’t even so much for his own salvation as for Charlie’s dream. Despite himself, he was almost starting to believe in it, to believe in her. But Val was right; it just wasn’t realistic. “I’m not an idiot.”

“What the hell are you doin’, then?” Long fingers slid slowly up and down his spine. “You have a place here. Somewhere you belong. That’s more than most demons can say.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothin’,” Val hissed. “You’re supposed to be here, full stop. What’d you say when I took you in? What’d you promise?”

“…I’m yours?” Angel answered quietly.

“Goddamn right. If you think you’re about to walk away from that scot-free, you got another thing comin’.” His grasp on Angel’s thighs tightened—but Angel surprised them both by shoving to his feet and taking a step back.

“I’m so tired of you touchin’ me,” Angel Dust barked, wrapping both pairs of arms around himself. “I’m so fuckin’ tired of everyone fuckin’ touchin’ me when I don’t ask for it. I don’t wanna do this anymore, Val.”

A few seconds passed in tense silence. When Val spoke, his expression was placid, but his voice was like ice. “You ungrateful fuckin’ skank. What do you mean you ‘don’t wanna do this’? How long’ve you been workin’ for me? How long since I took your scrawny ass in?”

“About sixty years, give or take. Haven’t I given you enough since then? Haven’t I paid you back?”

Val surged to his feet, too tall, too menacing, and despite himself, Angel flinched again. “You tell me, Angel.” Sharp teeth framed a frown so dangerous it could’ve torn him in two with ease. “Think about everything I’ve done for you. Think about how much you owe me. Where would you be right now if it wasn’t for me?” When Angel didn’t answer, Val took a step closer and grabbed his jaw tightly, forcing him to look up. “Think about it and tell me.”

Angel wanted to thrash, to jerk away from Val’s touch, but he _didn’t_ want to get slapped. “Look, I get it,” he said, trying hard to stay firm on this. “I know how much you’ve done for me, and I ain’t sayin’ I’m not grateful.”

“Bullshit. If you were grateful, you wouldn’t be tryin’ to walk away. So what is it at Hazbin that’s got you hooked?” The anger in Valentino’s voice had turned quiet, speculative, which Angel recognized as part of his pattern; he would sling insults and threats, he would get violent, and then he would tone everything down into something smooth and gentle, something calm and charming. This little song and dance had gotten to Angel a million times before, and even though he could see it happening, he still had trouble resisting it. “You got someone over there fuckin’ you right? Somethin’ like that?”

“No.” In fact, despite his flirtatious attitude, it had been weeks since Angel had gotten any, either because he was in the hotel with all Charlie’s wannabe saints or because of…something else. He didn’t really understand it himself. Charlie probably would’ve said it was because he was realizing that sex and drugs couldn’t fill the voids in his life forever—but he figured it was more likely he just didn’t have many options at the Hazbin. Maybe he just needed a real specific kind of person to fill his ‘voids.’ Maybe, he realized with horror, he had actually missed the way Val manhandled him. At least that meant he was wanted.

“No? They got drugs, then? Booze? I know you, Angel cakes, and there’s only so many things you care about,” Valentino chuckled. Even while keeping his firm hold on Angel’s chin, he contradicted it by softly petting his hair.

“It ain’t like that,” Angel muttered. Sure, there were reasons he chose to stick around at the hotel, but he wasn’t about to explain them to a fucking Overlord of Hell who wouldn’t recognize empathy if it bit him in the ass.

“Then it sounds like I did you a favor gettin’ you out of there.” Val’s hand slid down the back of his head, down his neck, down his spine, to come to rest on Angel’s hip and pull him closer. His voice rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest as he crooned, “You know I missed you, baby. All this time, I been waitin’ on you to come home. You know how that felt?”

 _Please._ As if he felt anything. His whole big victim act was nothing but a joke, a game, and Angel knew it—but there was something about Val when he got like this that made him irresistible. Maybe it was some kind of demon voodoo that came with being an Overlord, especially a creature of Lust, which Angel had always been painfully susceptible to. Whatever the reason, when Valentino decided to really switch on the charm, he could seduce anyone into doing, saying, or thinking pretty much anything.

“I…I missed you too,” Angel said quietly, not sure whether it was true or not but willing to say whatever was necessary to please him.

“Then I bet you’re glad to be back where you belong,” Val agreed, leading him, and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Good boy.” Val’s thumb glided over his lips to pull them apart, then deliberately swiped across the sharp points of his teeth. Hot, rich blood dripped onto Angel’s tongue, and he let out a moan of perverse pleasure as he swallowed it. _God, this is so fucked up._ But he knew that was part of the reason it turned him on so much. What the hell was he thinking, playing along with Charlie’s hopeful anyone-can-be-redeemed philosophy when this was the kind of thing that got him going, when he was totally aware of how toxic this ‘relationship’ was but didn’t care as long as it meant he got screwed by someone who knew what he was doing?

“Fuck,” he whimpered, the word slightly slurred from Val’s fingers between his lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was where Angel belonged. Not just there in the studio, but there on the couch, on his back, pinned down by someone who was willing to use him, his mouth full to keep him quiet.

If nothing else, it was the easiest place to be.


	3. Who Doesn't Like Surprises?

Some part of Alastor knew it wasn’t entirely fair to judge a person—or a demon, as the case may be—by the company he keeps. That is, the fact that Valentino chose to associate with that tasteless hack _Vox_ did not necessarily mean that he too was uncultured vermin. It was damning, certainly, but not definitive. This was a moot point, however, as there was already sufficient evidence to prove Valentino was trash, his friendship with Vox notwithstanding.

“It looks like after several months supposedly on the straight and narrow, adult film star and well-known coke whore Angel Dust has finally fallen completely off the wagon!” Katie Killjoy’s aggressively cheerful voice blared from the television set up in the hotel’s lobby, where all the hotel’s residents had gathered for news of their missing compatriot. Alastor could just imagine that vicious smile plastered on her face as she commentated over a video of Angel in a darkened club drinking himself to sickness, Angel doing lines and laughing coldly as a demon at his side passed out, Angel knelt in the darkened interior of a limousine and flipping off paparazzi while Valentino held him close with a ubiquitous grin.

Valentino was a common factor in all these scenarios, in fact, whether pouring liquor down Angel’s throat, handing him off to a…client, or simply watching in amusement while he drowned himself in sin. It had been three weeks, nearly four, since that limo had arrived and whisked Angel back to his old life of leisure and pleasure, and it seemed clear that Valentino was intent on keeping him there. Perhaps all the drugs and alcohol were meant to keep him compliant. And it seemed to be working a treat.

“It just goes to show that every soul here in Hell is here for a reason,” the reporter went on, “and that no misguided attempts at redeeming them will ever bear fruit. Looking at you, Princess Charlotte!”

Charlie’s eyes were locked on the TV, both hands covering her mouth, and Alastor could see tears starting to well in her eyes. Vaggie tried to console her, but she simply shut her eyes tight and dropped her head, withdrawing into herself rather than showing all the pain she must be feeling. That was a smart move, strategic, but not at all aligned with her personality.

“Damn it, Angel was here longer than any of us,” one of the other patrons complained loudly. “If he couldn’t hack it, what chance do the rest of us have?”

“Oh, come now, my good fellow, that’s hardly the spirit of self-improvement we strive for here at the Hazbin,” Alastor crowed, waltzing over to drape his arm over the pessimistic demon’s shoulders. “Have some confidence! Have some fortitude! Why, I assure you no one is more distraught over our dear friend Angel’s defection than I, but I refuse to allow my melancholy to keep me from progressing toward—”

“Alastor, will you just…save it?” Charlie barked, surprising everyone in the room into silence (other than the television, unfortunately). She looked up at him with a tearful snarl, fingers curling into helpless claws. “I know you don’t care about any of this, I know you think of it as a joke, but losing Angel isn’t something to laugh about. He was doing so well. I really thought he…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and shut her eyes. “I feel stupid enough already. You don’t have to rub it in.” She left the room with her head down, and as usual, the others followed her lead, dispersing to their respective rooms and leaving Alastor alone with _666 News’s_ mocking jingle.

Well. That certainly hadn’t gone to plan. If Charlie thought he was intentionally digging at her for Angel’s unfortunate regression, she was sorely mistaken. Much to his own surprise, he truly _was_ quite bothered by Angel’s absence, either because he disliked the hotel’s naysayers having any further ammunition against them or because none of their other patrons had such a defined and entertaining personality. He also didn’t much care for the knowledge that the very independent and unfettered Angel Dust was evidently being toted about like a marionette, with Valentino holding the strings.

With some reluctance, Vaggie had shared with him the stories Angel had told of his relationship with Val. There was no secret in the fact that Valentino used him for sex and money, no pretense of fair play or equality between them. It was with far more trepidation that Angel admitted exactly how imbalanced in power they were, how insistent Valentino could be on controlling his every move. And if he disobeyed, if he rebelled, if he refused any order, the Overlord wouldn’t hesitate to ‘lay down the law.’ Alastor could only guess, based on how frightened Angel had seemed when they’d last seen each other, exactly what that implied.

He had since done some further research on exactly who Valentino was and what function he served in Hell. How many associates he had. Who might seek revenge if some unfortunate accident were to befall him. That was, of course, how his association with Vox had become clear, which complicated matters a bit more. Slaughtering one Overlord for the sake of bringing Angel back into the fold and restoring his autonomy was one thing; Alastor had killed people for less. Murdering an Overlord to whom _Vox_ had some ostensible connection was another entirely. Was Alastor willing to risk a genuine threat for the sake of this farce, this naïve, hellish sitcom Charlie was staging?

_Difficult to say._

**…**

Later in the evening, while Alastor sat awake in bed contemplating his options, a faint scratching from downstairs caught his ear. It was unlikely any of the others would hear it, but being so attuned to the sounds of his surroundings as he was, it didn’t escape his notice. He sat a few moments longer, wondering if it might be another drunken imp crawling home after a few shots too many. But the sound persisted, a _scratch scratch scratch_ , as if of claws scraping the front door’s flawless enamel.

With a sigh, he slipped through the shadows and down the stairs to open the door, shocked to find a disheveled Angel Dust collapsed on the doorstep. Or maybe ‘disheveled’ was too mild a word. His face was bruised and smudged with blood, his torn clothing even more revealing than usual, his breathing shallow as if every inhale caused him further pain. To be plain, he looked rather like shit. And his condition was utterly fascinating.

“Angel?” Alastor knelt to observe him more closely: his hazy eyes, the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, the way his hand still absently scrabbled toward the door. He almost seemed unaware that he was no longer alone. When Alastor rested a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.

“No!” he said weakly. “No, I’ll be…I’ll…” He blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision, and the fear on his face faded into confusion. “Alastor?”

“That _is_ my name; don’t wear it out,” Alastor chuckled, unsure of how to approach this situation with anything other than his usual nonchalance. “Are you all right? I’ll be honest: you aren’t looking your best.”

“Yeah, thanks, jackass,” Angel grumbled, struggling to push himself up, all four arms shaking under his slight weight.

“May I ask what happened?” He was terribly curious. It must have something to do with Valentino, but what? It was clear Angel had been beaten, but by whom?

“Doesn’t matter. Just help me get to my room, will ya?”

Alastor remained exactly where he was, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, are you back to stay? Is this a pattern you’re developing, spending some time ‘clean’ before relapsing and leaving us without a word for months or longer? A classic cycle for addicts, I’m told.” If Valentino had truly been holding him against his will, these accusations would hardly be fair, but Alastor got the feeling that wasn’t exactly what had happened.

“Fine, don’t help me then.” Angel managed to force himself to his feet—which were bare—and clung to the door to take one shaking step inside. As he tried to take another, he wavered and collapsed. By reflex, Alastor moved to support him. But Angel surprised him by shoving away, so roughly that he threw himself to the ground.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands off me!” he shouted, leaving the lobby in charged silence thereafter. Despite the unexpected reaction, or maybe because of it, Alastor’s smile widened slightly at the edges. He did enjoy a good surprise, if he was honest, and it was interesting to imagine what might have happened to make Angel of all people averse to being touched. After a moment of stillness, the tension melted from Angel’s body, and he lowered his head slowly. “Sorry. I ain’t had the best luck with men lately.”

 _Oh, do I fall under that category?_ “Think nothing of it. Though it’ll be harder to help you upstairs if you don’t want me touching you.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t get fuckin’ handsy,” Angel muttered, holding out one hand and allowing Alastor to take it to help him up.

“I’m sure you know already that I wouldn’t dream of it.” Again, he laughed, helping Angel slowly and cumbersomely across the lobby to enter the elevator.

“Ya know, for once, I appreciate that about you.” Angel had chosen a room at the very top of the hotel on his initial arrival, determined to be as far from the others as possible, citing ‘beauty rest’ and ‘mind your business’ as his reasoning. Regardless of his absence, Niffty had still included the room in her usual cleaning schedule, possibly in the hopes that he would be back. When they reached room 723 and he managed to locate his key, he swung the door open to a room decorated in shades of pink rather like Angel himself. While he stumbled inside to seat himself on the bed and let out a sigh of relief, Alastor lingered in the doorway, his curiosity unsatisfied.

“Where _have_ you been?” he asked, making a conscious effort at sincerity in his tone.

“Ain’t you been watchin’ the news?” Angel scoffed. “I been everywhere. Didn’t even fuckin’ know half the time, Val kept me so—” He stopped himself, wrapping his arms around his lengthy body and staring down at his lap. “I bet Charlie’s pissed.”

“Now, I’m sure you know her better than that.”

“Yeah. But ‘disappointed’ is even worse. I didn’t _want_ …” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s Val. I can’t think straight when he’s around. He gets in your head, y’know?”

“In _your_ head, maybe,” Alastor agreed. “Yes, that’s how it seems.”

“You wanna talk about ‘cycles’? You wanna talk about ‘patterns’? It’s him. It’s always fuckin’ _him_.” Even with his mouth set in a furious sneer, a tear streaked down his face, and he quickly brushed it away. “He’s been real careful about keepin’ his eye on me this time. Keepin’ me happy or strung-out or shitfaced enough that I can’t argue with him. Guess he slipped up tonight.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, then went to lean against the wall opposite Angel and watch him closely. It almost sounded as if he wanted to talk about what he’d just gone through at Valentino’s hands, and if that was the case, Alastor was happy to listen. “What happened tonight?” he prompted. “If Valentino has made such an effort to keep you under control, how did you come to be back here at the hotel?”

“Luck, maybe? I mean, if you can call it lucky to get the shit kicked outta you,” Angel said with a mirthless laugh. His eyes lingered on Alastor, studying him as if trying to guess what ulterior motives he might have for staying in the room. “I dunno. Val had some business to take care of tonight. The kinda business he doesn’t like me gettin’ involved in. So he…loaned me out to a buddy of his. Vox. He—”

Angel’s tale cut off with a cringe as the usual ambient buzzing about Alastor’s person jumped into a harsh screech of static. His sharp smile stayed fixed as firmly as ever, his eyes wide as he tried to process this new information. He hadn’t realized that Vox was personally involved in all this, but the knowledge muddied his feelings on the entire subject somewhat. Where was all this anger coming from, he wondered? Was it the idea of Vox enjoying _anything_ that he so resented? Was it the concept of Angel Dust being passed around between Overlords without any say in the matter? Maybe it was the thought that he was somehow enabling Vox to take advantage of Angel by not confronting Valentino sooner.

_Very difficult to say._

After several seconds of tension, he managed to subdue the scratch and static back to its typical lingering presence. “I’m sorry, please continue,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve been…involved with Vox, then?”

“Sorta.” Angel was still watching him warily, like he expected another sudden outburst at any moment. “You know him?”

“We’re acquainted.” Another brief crackle of static. “We’re of different minds on a few issues. I didn’t know he was a part of Valentino’s business.”

“He’s not exactly. Doesn’t like gettin’ his hands dirty; he just likes to watch,” Angel explained. Yes, that fit the understanding of Vox’s character that Alastor had developed over the years. Always watching, observing, storing information for later use. _Parasite._ “It’s not like anything was different this time. It’s how he always is. Him and his guys. Usually four or five of ‘em. But I guess he didn’t like Val’s plan to keep me drugged and drunk all the time. What’s the point if I don’t scream, right?” His voice had turned hard, cold, and his clawed fingers dug into the bedspread beneath him.

Realizing that this topic had become an unpleasant one for both of them, Alastor began, “Angel, if you’d rather not—”

“Oh no, you started this,” Angel snapped back, shooting him a glare. “You wanted to know. The least you can do is let me finish.” He was right, of course. Alastor inclined his head and gestured for Angel to go on. “Anyway, those demons that work for him ain’t really the gentle type. And I was comin’ down from like, three different highs at once, so I already felt like garbage before they got their hands on me. Guess I complained one time too many.” He absently reached up to touch the bruise on his cheekbone, wincing slightly at the pressure.

“Once they were done with me, once Vox looked the other way, I snuck out. I got a cab, but I didn’t have any cash on me, so…” He shrugged, leaving it up to Alastor’s imagination as to how he paid for the ride. This may have been the first time he’d seen Angel so blasé toward—even uncomfortable with—the subject of sex. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Don’t worry, Val’s probably gonna send one of his guys to pick me up once he realizes I’m gone, so I won’t be here causin’ trouble for long.”

Alastor pushed off the wall and strode over to the bed to stand in front of Angel. Recalling how badly he had responded to being touched earlier, he made sure to move slowly and carefully as he trailed his fingertips up the edge of Angel’s chin to make him look up. “Is that what you want? To go back to Valentino?”

“Wh-what?” Angel was apparently having difficulty following the turn this conversation had just taken, his face flushed as he stared up at the Radio Demon with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go back to him?” Alastor repeated, absently licking the pad of his thumb to wipe the dried blood away from the corner of Angel’s mouth. _Such a waste._ Angel started to lean into the touch, but it ended before he could do so. “If and when he sends an escort to retrieve you, do you plan to cooperate?”

“What else am I gonna do?” Shaking his head, leaning back slightly, Angel pointed out, “You don’t know what he’s like, Al. He doesn’t like bein’ told ‘no,’ and he doesn’t like lettin’ go of shit that belongs to him. I ain’t got much choice.”

“Just humor me for a moment and suppose that you do,” Alastor insisted, gesturing airily as he spoke. “Suppose you had the option to either go back to his studio and live a relatively comfortable and indulgent life with few personal freedoms _or_ stay here, focus on your rehabilitation, and work with us to support the hotel’s efforts. Which would you prefer?”

The answer was almost immediate. “If there was a way for me to not be Val’s little fuckin’ boy toy anymore, sure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Alastor’s smile widened considerably. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. And as co-manager of the hotel, it’s my duty to eliminate any and all obstacles to our patrons’ recovery, is it not? Consider your account with Valentino settled, my friend, and try to get some rest. We’ll be expecting you back in sessions tomorrow.”

“Wait. Wait a minute!” Angel grabbed his wrist as he started to leave, and although he wrenched away from the touch, he did pause. “What’re you sayin’? You’re not gonna go after him, are ya?”

“I plan to have a conversation with him,” Alastor said honestly. “I’m hoping he’s a reasonable fellow and will understand the situation without the need for things to get messy. If he doesn’t, however…” The room darkened slightly, highlighting the glow of his eyes. “I̶ ̢w̸i̷l͡l _m͞ak̸e ͘_ h͜i͏m ͝und҉e̶rst҉an͠d.”

“Don’t.” Angel was visibly unnerved by seeing his cheerful demeanor slip, but it didn’t stop him from protesting. “Seriously. I know you’re supposed to be this big powerful Overlord and all, but Val is no joke. Whatever you think you’re gonna get out of threatening him—”

“Are you trying to protect him?”

“No. I’m tryin’ to protect—” He ran a hand through his hair with an irritated groan. “It’s not worth it. I’m sayin’ if he’s pissed at me, I should be the one dealing with it. I don’t want you or Charlie or anybody here to get hurt cuz of my personal bullshit.” As the words were coming out of his mouth, he seemed to slowly realize what he was saying, just as Alastor did the same.

“Why Angel Dust,” the Radio Demon purred, surprised but delighted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounded very much like the virtue of Kindness. Maybe even Humility. You might be closer to redemption than I thought.” _What an interesting development!_

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Angel hissed, flushing even darker now and grabbing a heart-shaped throw pillow from the bed to toss it at Alastor. “Get outta my room, you dick.”

“Hmm, and just when we were starting to get along.” He dodged another pillow and swept out of the room, stealing one last glance at the blush on Angel’s cheeks before pulling the door shut behind him. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he planned to ignore the advice not to approach Valentino.

 _It’s not worth it_ , Angel had said. _I’m not worth it_ , was what he meant. That was likely another lingering effect of Valentino’s influence, one he would be better off without. Beyond that, Alastor had already said that he would take care of the problem, and he had a firm policy against the breaking of promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this chapter to include another scene, but the conversation between Al and Angie just got a little out of hand in terms of length. So instead, you're getting two Alastor chapters in a row. Stay tuned~


	4. I.O.U.

Angel was right to think that Valentino wouldn’t be long in asking after him. The following day, Charlie welcomed Angel back with open arms and tears of joy. The mood throughout the entire hotel improved with his presence, in fact, from the staff to the guests to Angel himself. He seemed very pleased to be back, while the others—Alastor included—were delighted to have him. Yet in the midst of their happy reunion, there was an undercurrent of nervous anticipation, and only a few of them knew why.

After roughly five days of waiting, another large and intimidating demon, different from the last, came knocking. This time, however, Alastor was waiting in the lobby to greet him, having relieved Husker of his duties for the moment. “Good afternoon, my friend,” he called cheerfully from the bar. “Are you here to reserve a room for yourself? For a friend, perhaps? We’re happy to accommodate—”

“Can it, Radio,” the other demon growled.

“—whatever needs you might have,” he concluded. “Well, if that isn’t why you’re here, what can I do for you?”

“I’m lookin’ for Angel. Where is he?”

“Angel? Hmmm, Angel…” Alastor pursed his lips, leaning forward against the bar and drumming his fingers along it rhythmically. He materialized the hotel’s registry in front of him and flipped through the pages too quickly to read them. “You know, I’m not sure who you mean. That name doesn’t appear in our records. Could you give me a more detailed description? I hate to be unhelpful.”

“Look, I’m not in the mood for any of your fuckin’ games. Tell me where I can find Angel Dust. Boss knows he’s here. The longer you keep him from goin’ back, the more pissed Val’s gonna get.”

“I see. Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Alastor said, nodding, sweeping out from behind the bar to meet the visitor. “Maybe I should go and have a chat with Valentino to avoid any misunderstandings.”

“No deal. I’m here for Angel, and I ain’t leavin’ without him.”

“Are you sure? I really think”—there was a burst of static, Alastor’s voice distorting slightly as he gestured toward the door—“this is the best option for everyone. Yourself included. Now, I try not to make assumptions about the feelings of others, but I can promise you, if you refuse to take me to Valentino, _you will regret it_.”

“Uh.” The crony took a step back, his eyes widening as the room darkened further and further. He must have recognized just how serious Alastor was about this. “All right, all right, just come with me. If you wanna be the one to break the news, be my guest.”

“Why, it would be my utmost pleasure!” the Radio Demon agreed, congenial once again now that he was getting his way. He followed Valentino’s employee out to the limo, which was empty this time. They rode in utter silence, Alastor observing through the window and considering all the various ways Valentino might take the news he had to present. Plenty of possibilities, plenty of options. Of course, it would be simplest if he could talk his way through the disagreement without needing to resort to violence, but then…

Then he recalled the tears in Angel’s eyes those few nights ago, how terrified he was of being touched, how disgusted he sounded when talking about _Vox_ and his men…and he wondered if perhaps a little violence wasn’t in order. Angel wasn’t likely to get revenge himself, but his suffering still deserved to be repaid to the ones who had caused it. Something to think about, at least.

The studio, when they reached it, wasn’t the sort of place Alastor would’ve spent his time willfully. _Visual media._ Flat facts, no imagination, what a bore. The demon who had driven him there tried to take him up the elevator, but he slapped the man’s hands away from the buttons and entered the car alone with a smile and a grateful bow.

When he reached the top floor and stepped out into Valentino’s lounge, the pimp was waiting sprawled on a velvet-upholstered couch. The look on his face said he’d already been informed in the change of plans regarding his guest. It wasn’t a pleased or welcoming expression by any means.

“Radio,” Valentino said simply. “I knew somethin’ was keepin’ Angel at that shithole of a hotel, but I didn’t figure it’d be somethin’ like you.”

“Well, I do try my best to do the unexpected. To be clear, though, I haven’t been ‘keeping’ anyone anywhere,” he replied, absently twirling his staff through his fingers as he wandered the room. The view from this height was quite impressive—as impressive as Pentagram City could be, that is. “Angel has expressed an interest in staying at the hotel, so I thought I might do you the favor of explaining why.”

“As if you understand anything about him,” Valentino sneered. “You met him, what, a couple months ago? You don’t fuckin’ know him.”

“Not as well as you do, I’m sure. But I also have no interest in leading him to feel or think any particular way. I’m told that’s an area where you and I differ.”

“Then why’re you comin’ here to speak for him? There a reason he couldn’t tell me all this himself?”

“There is! And I’m sure you’re well aware of it,” Alastor said, coming back to stand in front of the couch, hands folded at his back. “After all, you’ve been using it to manipulate him for years, haven’t you? Any time he began to argue with your orders, any time he fought you for his freedom, you subdued him with a show of force that you know he can’t resist. If he were to come here, you would do the same thing yet again. Am I wrong?”

“Must be real easy to stand there and run your mouth about shit you don’t understand.” Valentino’s long fingers tapped slowly along the arm of the couch. “But it sounds like you two’ve spent a while chattin’ about it. He tell you about all the times I got his junkie ass outta trouble? All the times he came crawlin’ back to me when he couldn’t make it on his own? Nah, I bet he painted this big sad picture for ya where I’m the bad guy and he’s never done a thing wrong in his life. That’s what I mean when I say ya don’t know him. You don’t even realize when you’re bein’ played.”

“He didn’t ask me to come here,” Alastor pointed out. “In fact, he asked me not to. His fear of you is so powerful it extends even to others he cares about outside of himself.”

In an instant, Valentino was on his feet, bearing down on Alastor menacingly but not enough to make him back down. “People he ‘cares about’?” he growled. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? You’ve been screwin’ him, haven’t you? You’re the reason he thinks he doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alastor tossed his head back and laughed aloud. “My good man, you are wrong on every possible count. Well, other than Angel realizing that he doesn’t need you. That, he has.” A feather or a tuft of fur from Valentino’s coat floated down to rest on his shoulder, and he brushed it off casually. “No, I’ve been doing nothing of the sort. But he’s made it clear to me that you are not what he wants for his future. So I’m here to make it clear that you will not _be_ a part of his future.”

After a moment of exchanging silent glares, Valentino let out a laugh without ever smiling. “You really think you’re hot shit, don’t ya? You think you can waltz into my place of business and tell me what I can or can’t do with my own property?”

“I sincerely hope you’re not referring to Angel Dust as ‘property.’” Despite all the windows in the room and the fact that the sun was still up, shadows began to slowly gather in the corners and edge toward him. “I’ve come to think of him as a friend, you see, and I don’t much appreciate my friends being insulted.”

“A friend. I just bet,” Valentino scoffed.

“Why else would I have come here in his defense?”

“You tell me, Radio. Vox says you ain’t interested in sex. Not really. Nobody knows _what_ the fuck you’re interested in. But you obviously have some kinda investment in Angel. So what is it about him you like so much?”

The sound of his rival’s name made Alastor’s smile edge into a sneer, and he made no effort at forcing it back into something congenial. “As much as I appreciate your efforts to understand me, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time or will to explain myself to someone like you. Kindly give me your word that you’ll allow Angel to live his own life free from your interference, and I’ll leave you to continue your distasteful business in peace.” He offered his hand, ready to seal the deal and be done with this conversation before being forced to examine his own motivations too closely—but Valentino refused to cooperate.

“And if I don’t?” He raised his head, jutting his chin out defiantly. “If I tell you none of your petty threats or parlor tricks are gonna work on me and I’m not lettin’ Angel go for all the hookers in Hell? Then what?”

Alastor took a slow, deep breath, his mouth twisting into a disappointed grimace as he rested the end of his staff on the ground and ran his free hand through his hair. “ _If_ you were to say that, I would be distraught. I did tell him I would try to resolve this peacefully. That being said…” He tapped his staff once, and the shadows that had been slowly creeping closer suddenly shot forward to shackle Valentino’s wrists, yanking down sharply and forcing him to his knees. Not bothering to pretend he wasn’t enjoying this, Alastor went on, “I also told him that if you forced the issue, I had no qualms about forcing your acquiesce. So here we are.”

“You fuckin’ piece of garbage.” Valentino thrashed, and his physical strength was surprising, almost shocking in that it nearly broke the shadows’ hold on him. Nearly. As he was dragged back down, he growled, “Say what you want, but I know you’re tryna keep him for yourself. You think you can take what belongs to me and get away with it? _I_ was the one takin’ care of him. _I_ was the only reason he made it as far as he did. Whatever I wanted as payback, I deserved. If he thinks he can—” Another shadow tendril snaked around his throat to cut off his voice as Alastor grew tired of his excuses.

“I appreciate your dedication to your principles,” he said, starting to stroll thoughtfully back and forth just a few feet from where Valentino was bound. “There’s something to be said for a man who really sticks to his guns, even if your particular guns are objectively repugnant. Now, do you have any sort of formal deal with Angel that details him as your ‘property’?”

“You got me curious now,” Valentino answered, ignoring the question. “You gotta know who I am. You know what kinda trouble fuckin’ with me is gonna get you into. But you’re doin’ it anyway, for his sake. With your reputation, it just doesn’t make sense. But Angie’s got his hooks in you deep, I can tell.”

“A contract? A verbal agreement?” Alastor suggested, not bothering to respond to the other demon’s musing. “Something regarding his career, maybe? What will it take to sever your hold on him once and for all?”

“It ain’t like this’s never happened before, y’know.” Valentino had stopped fighting his bonds altogether, simply sitting still on the ground and watching Alastor thoughtfully, his voice turned smooth and calm. “He does this to people. Sometimes it’s the guys he shoots with. Sometimes it’s fans or clients. They spend a little too much time with him and start gettin’ the idea there’s more to it than sex. I’ll tell you the same thing I tell them: whatever Angel says, whatever little pity games he wants to play, he _likes_ the work I have him doin’.”

“He gives a very different impression.”

“Sure he does. That’s part of the game. He likes havin’ some power to play with, seein’ how far he can get a man to go for his sake. Or maybe he just likes seein’ me kill his drooling puppy-love dickheads over and over to keep him to myself. Who knows what goes on in his head? But you’ve known him a little while. You’ve seen how he acts. You think I taught him to be like that?” Valentino let out a cold laugh. “Nah. He was a slut before he ever met me.”

Alastor’s smile was distinctly pained at this point, his face reddening with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. “I don’t see what any of that has to do with this conversation.”

“The point is he doesn’t want out. He just wants control over somethin’. Doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t it piss you off to think he’s usin’ you?” With a growing smirk, he went on, “Doesn’t it make ya wanna punish him? Bring him back here for me and I’ll let you.”

Horrified, the Radio Demon reeled back a step as static started to build in his ears. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, it doesn’t hafta be sexual; however you wanna do it’s up to you.” Valentino was practically salivating at the thought, grinning ear-to-ear. “I’ll even make it so he won’t fight back. Do whatever ya want with him, teach him not to fuck with an Overlord. Your thing is audio, right? Well that voice of his sounds even better when he’s screaming—”

Alastor’s fist closed abruptly, and the shadow around Valentino’s neck tightened, jerking downward to slam his face into the cold tile floor. All sound in the room had been drowned in squealing, buzzing static, betraying how utterly livid he was. That was what Angel had noted in relation to Vox. _What’s the point if I don’t scream, right?_ The thought of being compared to that odious cretin in any aspect was enough to boil his blood, but it was especially insulting to suggest his cooperation might be so easily bought with the promise of carnal pleasure, as if he had no more significant motivation.

“I hate to interrupt while you’re clearly enjoying this subject so much”—he spoke over (or under) the static without trying to subdue it—“but I think we’ve gotten a little off-topic. I was asking you whether there are any official deals binding Angel to you. And you were going to tell me so that I could end them. Yes?” Placing his mic under Valentino’s chin to force his head up, he took slight satisfaction in seeing that the pimp’s kitschy heart-shaped sunglasses were now cracked. Better yet, there was no trace of a smile on his face.

“Motherfucker,” Valentino grumbled, sitting up as well as he could. As the tendril around his neck slowly coiled tighter and tighter and Alastor was debating whether it might be safest to simply kill him now and be done with it, he choked out, “No, all right? It’s nothin’…like that. It’s just understood.”

“Then I’ll need you to revise your understanding.” He knelt to be eye-level with his opposition and ordered, “Tell me you and yours won’t approach Angel Dust or coerce him into anything again. Promise me that, and the most you might lose is some revenue. Refuse, and I’ll make it my mission to prove exactly how much _more_ you have to lose.” The white noise had pitched higher and higher to an ear-splitting level, but Alastor didn’t so much as blink as he waited for an answer.

After several moments of stubborn, cringing silence, Valentino finally broke down. “Fine!” he snarled. “I won’t come get him. I won’t make him leave your little freak show. But you need to know he _is_ gonna come back to me, just like he always does, and when it happens, I’m not lettin’ him outta my sight again.”

The screeching static dissipated all at once as Alastor got to his feet again. “Considering how unlikely that condition is, I’ll accept it. I’m glad we could finally come to an agreement.” The shadows released their hold on Valentino and slipped away into the corners of the room again, all returning to its proper state before his arrival. He offered his hand to make the deal official, not at all concerned about Valentino attacking him; even if he tried, it had already been proven which of them was stronger.

Begrudgingly shaking his hand, just once, Valentino growled, “Now get the fuck outta my studio.”

“Oh, with pleasure! I wouldn’t spend a moment longer here than necessary,” Alastor agreed, already heading for the elevator and humming happily to himself. All things considered, those negotiations had gone quite well.

**…**

It took some time for him to get back to the hotel, as he was forced to walk this time. By the time he reached the lobby, the sun was already setting. Inside, Husker was leaning against the bar and watching an uncharacteristically anxious Angel pace back and forth in front of it, while Charlie waited with her arms crossed. When they caught sight of him, Charlie and Angel rushed over to meet him immediately.

“Al! Where the hell’ve you been?” Angel demanded, looking him over as if to be sure he wasn’t hiding some sort of injury.

“You left the front desk empty too,” Charlie added with a pout. “I mean, no one came in while you were gone, but what if they had?”

“I apologize for the sudden disappearance; there was some business I needed to attend across town. But now that it’s taken care of, I’m back and able to give the hotel my full attention,” he assured Charlie. “If you need anything at all, remember I’m just a call away. In the meantime: Angel. Could I have a word?” With this, he headed toward the stairwell, certain Angel would follow—which he did.

“Niffty said she saw Val’s car out front earlier,” he explained once they were alone and working their way toward the third floor, where Alastor’s room was located. “Is that where you were?”

“Well, I was only in the car for a short period,” the Radio Demon teased. “Most of my time away was spent in Valentino’s lounge. Nicely decorated, that place, if a bit gaudy for my taste.”

“So you talked to him? What’d you say? What’d _he_ say?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to repeat it all word-for-word,” he chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve been recording it for you, if you’re so interested.”

“Alastor, seriously.” Angel didn’t try to touch him this time, instead moving to block his path on the stairs. “What happened?”

“We had a discussion. Like gentlemen,” Alastor said, folding his hands behind his back. “It took some persuading on my part, but he agreed not to pursue you any further. As long as you don’t go back to the studio of your own free will, you shouldn’t have to deal with him again.”

“Wait, so that’s just it? It was that simple?”

“Not quite, but those are the most important details.” Remembering the deal Valentino had _tried_ to make with him, the offer of torturing or otherwise ‘punishing’ Angel still sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine—but he was well aware that hearing all that wouldn’t do Angel any good. “I figured you would want to know, so you can stop worrying every day that you’re going to be called back to him. It won’t happen.” _I’ll make sure of that._ As he moved to continue up the stairs, Angel spoke again.

“So what d’you want?”

“Want?” Alastor repeated, pausing to glance back at him.

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re for real about this, you just did me a pretty huge fuckin’ favor,” Angel pointed out. “Nobody down here does shit for anyone else without expectin’ somethin’ in return. I know you like your bets and deals and all. So tell me what ya want.”

That was all very fair logic. Alastor did very much enjoy making deals, often the sort that weren’t exactly as they seemed, and collecting favors from those he worked with. It was true he’d taken quite a risk in threatening Valentino, and it made sense that he should want to be repaid. Yet he hadn’t been thinking of it that way up to this point.

“What I did today wasn’t entirely selfless. While I am glad to know you’ll be free to make your own choices, I also wanted to keep you here with us. Er, to give you that option. If that’s what you want. Of course you’re free to leave if you prefer,” he added, not wanting to liken himself to Valentino in that way. “Point being: you don’t owe me anything, _cher_. I’m satisfied with knowing you won’t be abducted by some third party.”

Angel didn’t respond for a moment. When he did, it wasn’t in the way Alastor expected. Because Alastor was a step or two higher than him at the moment, their heights were roughly equal, which made it simple enough for Angel to lean forward and kiss him. For once, his buzzing static went completely silent, and his eyes widened further as gloved hands slid into his hair on either side of his head. It was a simple, lingering kiss, just light pressure and warmth—but before he drew away, Angel did lick his lips once, softly, briefly.

“Hmm.” As he stepped back, fingertips trailing down the Radio Demon’s cheek, Angel wore a playful, self-satisfied smirk. “Lemme know if ya change your mind about that.” And he left to head back down the stairs, most likely to take the elevator up to his room.

Alastor remained very still, hands clenched at his sides as he tried to understand exactly what had just happened and how he felt about it. While it was true he’d never had much interest in sex, this was something rather different and not altogether unpleasant. Maybe… Maybe he _did_ want something from Angel. But he wouldn’t ask for it. He refused to prove Valentino right in his theory that Alastor had only freed Angel in order to claim him for himself—though that word, ‘claim,’ and all it implied did make him shiver with intrigue.

 _No._ He would not be what Valentino was, what Vox was, what Angel expected of every man he encountered. He wouldn’t insist that he needed no repayment, then immediately prove himself a liar with the slightest temptation. That being said, if Angel were to offer again…Alastor might have some difficulty refusing.


	5. Swear That I Know This Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone, and thank you for your patience! Special thanks to all of you who have left kudos and kind comments. Reader feedback is like, my main incentive to keep working on a project, so I really appreciate the encouragement. <3

Angel’s back was pinned against the wall in the hotel’s abandoned excuse for a ballroom. The room was mostly dark, a little light from the setting sun bleeding in through dingy windows while he lazily observed one of his fellow patrons trying to make a move on him. The other demon was a little taller than Angel himself, a little broader, and he used his extra bit of height to his advantage, leaning forward against the wall to bear down on Angel.

“You talk a pretty big game, sweet thing.” His name was some kind of music joke: Jazz or Ska or House or some shit. “I’d sure like to see you put your money where your mouth is.”

“I can think of better things to put in my mouth,” Angel snickered. As the other demon grinned and reached up to pet his cheek, Angel slapped his hand away and went on, “But your dick ain’t one of ‘em. Fuck off and find someone else to bother.”

“Are you serious?” Maybe-Jazz growled. “You sit there makin’ offers all through Charlie’s sessions but you won’t follow through?”

“Offers? Please. Look, I ain’t serious about any of that shit; I’m sayin’ it to fuck with ya, not to actually fuck ya.” This wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain this over the past week or so, but truth be told, he was kind of enjoying having the freedom to say ‘no’ (not that his sex drive wasn’t as strong as ever, but he’d gotten pickier about who he was willing to spend it on—a _lot_ pickier).

“Well I’m not into being teased, so maybe you better reconsider.” Jazz snaked an arm around Angel’s waist, incorrectly thinking this was a situation he could brute-force his way through. As if his vague bullshit threats were anything compared to what Angel had been through in the past.

 _Cute._ His body moved almost by reflex, one hand grabbing Jazz’s shirt to reverse their positions and shove him back against the wall. His other hands reached into his jacket and drew out a matching set of three pistols, pressing one to Jazz’s temple, one to his chest, and aiming the last at his crotch.

“Which trigger should I pull first, ya think?” Angel asked casually, enjoying the shocked and disarmed look on the other demon’s face. “You could probably live without your balls, but I feel like you don’t get much use outta your brain, either.”

“Hey, cool it,” Jazz grumbled, raising his hands in surrender. “You know killin’ me’d set back your redemption plan pretty far.”

“Ha! You must not know me very well, _sweet thing_. I’m a backslider from way back; wouldn’t be the first time my virtues got a little blurry.” After another moment of enjoying the tension, he released the other demon’s shirt and took a step back. “But fuckin’ you up isn’t worth listenin’ to Charlie gripe. So how ‘bout you get the hell outta my face and we call it even?”

“Fine. Shit.” With a bitter, disappointed glance in Angel’s direction, Jazz shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked out of the room. Angel twirled his guns once before tucking them back into his jacket. He was just in such a good goddamn mood lately, and he didn’t have to wonder why; true to Alastor’s word, none of Val’s guys had shown up at the hotel since their little ‘chat,’ leaving Angel free to enjoy his independence and sexuality—or lack thereof!—whatever way _he_ chose. Since he’d been working for Val so long, it was refreshing to be back in control of himself now. And he hadn’t forgotten for even a second who he had to thank for it.

Alastor had been acting a little weird since then, though. Looking at him funny, not responding to his playful flirting right, and then there was that word—cher—he’d started using. Angel might not have the best grasp of French, but he was pretty sure he recognized that term. Enough to know what it meant but not what it _meant_.

As he strolled out of the ballroom Jazz had dragged him into without warning, he found Alastor standing outside, clutching his staff tightly in both hands. “Angel,” he said a little too cheerfully. “How are you? I thought…well, I could’ve been wrong. It sounded like you and Jazz had a bit of a disagreement.”

“Is there anything in the hotel you _don’t_ hear?” Angel tried hard not to think about how many times he’d moaned the Radio Demon’s name into his pillow over the past few nights.

“Not much.” Alastor’s default expression didn’t shift in the slightest. It wasn’t easy, but Angel was making a point of learning to tell one smile from another. How else would he ever learn to read the cryptic bastard? “But you look fine. I suppose you took care of it.”

“Y’know, it’s pretty cute, you gettin’ all protective,” Angel said with a knowing grin, “but don’t start thinkin’ I can’t handle myself with jerk-offs like him. I’m not gonna ask you to step in for me again any time soon, don’t worry.”

“Right. Of course! No, I know you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.” He was doing it again, getting all awkward and distant for no reason, avoiding Angel’s eyes, his usual smooth attitude stuttering a little.

Angel Dust had never been much good at quiet contemplation or impulse control, so instead of keeping his concerns to himself and giving Alastor space, he asked directly, “What’s goin’ on with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit. Don’t act like you haven’t been lookin’ at me different since you got back from Val’s place.” _Or maybe it was the kiss._ “You act like you’re happy to see me, you start talkin’ to me like normal, then you clam up all of a sudden and run off. You were always a little weird, but you’re weirder lately, and I feel like it’s got somethin’ to do with me.”

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit to think that Alastor was mad at him or something. Despite his best efforts at resisting, Angel had developed a sort of attachment to him, weirdness and all. Maybe out of gratitude. Maybe something else. He already knew better than to expect Alastor would ever start feeling something similar about him, but he’d thought they were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

The Radio Demon was silent and still for just a moment too long, and Angel let out a frustrated sigh, throwing up his hands and starting past him toward the elevator—but Alastor caught his hand to stop him.

“If anything I’ve done has made you feel like you’re in the wrong, I’m sorry,” he said plainly. “I’ve been keeping my distance while I decided how to talk to you about this. And, obviously, I haven’t had any luck. Now might be as good a time as any.”

“For what? What d’you want to talk about?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor seemed to realize he was still holding Angel’s hand and released it. “I’d rather have the conversation in private, if you don’t mind. We could use one of the conference rooms or—”

“Isn’t your room closer?” Angel asked, raising his eyebrows, and Al’s throat constricted with a reflexive gulp.

“Yes. That’s also fine. If you like.” He turned on his heel to lead the way down the hall to room 313, then held the door open and gestured for Angel to go ahead. The room was surprisingly minimalist, not reflecting the beaucoups of personality that showed every time Alastor opened his mouth. But that was better than the hellish horrors some other Overlords might decorate with.

“So what’s the deal?” Angel’s instinct was to seat himself on the bed, but he resisted it, not wanting Alastor to think he was being pushy.

“The question seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Yet as hard as I’ve tried, I can’t seem to answer it as clearly or eloquently as I’d like. That’s part of the reason I haven’t mentioned it to you; I felt there was no point bringing it up until I actually had something to say.”

“Funny. Most times, it’s a lot harder to make you _stop_ talkin’.”

“Believe me, I know exactly how unusual this is,” Alastor sighed, releasing his staff and letting it vanish, “which is most likely why it’s been so difficult for me to form it into a complete, polished statement.”

“Give it to me messy, then.” Seeing how rigid Alastor had gone, Angel winced and tried again. Sometimes his mouth just formed innuendos without any effort on his part. “I’m sayin’ I don’t need it to be super-organized and flawless. Just _tell me_ what you’re thinkin’.”

The Radio Demon took a deep breath and, without looking anywhere near Angel, confessed, “I want…you. That’s the clearest way I can think to say it.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, obviously frustrated with how inelegant the words were. But they were enough to hold Angel’s attention regardless.

“Oh.” He was about to ask Alastor to elaborate but quickly realized that was the part he was having trouble with. So he asked a different question. “When’d that start?”

“Roughly twenty-four seconds after you kissed me,” Alastor said matter-of-factly.

“After? So that’s not why you helped me with Val?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least. And I didn’t want you thinking so, either. But then—” He choked out a laugh. “I don’t have a definitive answer for why I did that, either, so maybe I’m fooling myself. It’s hard to say.”

“Well, if you can’t tell me what ya want, it’ll be awful hard for me to give it to ya.”

Red eyes lingered on Angel’s lips, and Alastor wet his own. “But you’re willing to agree, just like that? Without even knowing what I’m asking for?”

“Al, I’m gonna be totally honest with you,” Angel said, drawing closer and bending down a little to meet his gaze. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little bit of a freak. I figured I was wastin’ my time, thinkin’ about gettin’ with you—”

“You’ve been thinking about that, have you?”

“—but I’m pretty sure whatever you wanna do with my body, I’ll enjoy it,” he went on, draping his arms over Alastor’s shoulders, not missing the shiver that went through the Overlord’s body. “I trust you.”

Those were apparently the magic words; Alastor’s eyes widened, and he dragged Angel into a firm kiss. And he participated much more actively this time! He slid one hand into Angel’s hair to draw him downward, forcing his posture to bend, but he was too absorbed in the experience to be bothered.

It all seemed to happen much slower than he expected. Alastor’s tongue traced his lips, stealing his breath, then slipped inside, everything soft and wet and warm. Even as Angel pressed in closer, arms tightening around Alastor’s shoulders and waist, Al refused to let him take things any faster. It seemed like he was intent on exploring every inch of Angel’s mouth in his own time, and— _God_ —his tongue was longer than expected. When Alastor moaned into his mouth, Angel’s heart practically stopped, and he forced himself to break away for a breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hanging off Al for stability.

“That’s a nice sound, cher,” the Radio Demon purred, allowing his free arm to wrap around Angel’s slender waist and hold him close. “I wonder what it would take to hear more of it.”

“Uh. My voice?” Angel asked, embarrassed at how turned on he’d gotten from just one kiss (albeit a very deep, very thorough kiss).

“That’s right. I know for sure that I want that. The question is how to go about getting it.” Using the grip in his hair, he turned Angel toward him for another kiss, one every bit as hot and intense as the first, and Angel found himself moaning softly with every breath from having his mouth full. How ironic that someone so indifferent about sex could excite him with hardly any effort. But after so long doing without, every little bit of pleasurable friction made him eager for more. _If this is his first time, is he feeling all that too?_

“H-hang on,” he whimpered, reluctantly pushing Alastor away so he could catch a breath. “You probably can’t hear me really well if my mouth’s covered.”

“Fair point.” Al grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the bed, then pushed him forward to kneel on the mattress. Stepping in close behind him, Alastor wrapped both arms around his waist, chest pressed to Angel’s back. With Angel on his knees, Alastor’s mouth was at just the right level to meet his neck, lips and tongue and teeth teasing to send hot shivers down his spine.

“That’s…nice, baby,” Angel sighed, and he could feel Alastor tense up behind him. “What? Somethin’ wrong?”

“I don’t care to be called that,” the Radio Demon said plainly. “Try again, cher.”

“Oh. Well, what d’ya like, then?” Angel was struggling to focus on talking as Al easily unbuttoned his jacket and stripped it off him to toss it to the floor. So much for shyness! He knew some part of what he wanted, clearly.

“Surprise me,” Alastor chuckled. “Something unique. Something you wouldn’t use for anyone else.”

“Okay. How ‘bout, uh, dear?” That one was a lot more wholesome than he was used to.

Al laughed against his skin. “Yes, that seems appropriate.” His hands drifted down to unbutton Angel’s shorts, drawing a breathless moan from his lips.

“Alastor…”

“Simple, but I’m surprised at how much I enjoy hearing it.” As he talked, casual as could be, he slid his hand down the front of Angel’s shorts to tease a desperate whine from his lips.

“Y-y’know, you’re makin’ this…kinda hard for me, honey,” he moaned, cheeks flushing with heat. There was another term he didn’t use often. It always felt too sweet, too familiar to call a stranger. But of course, Alastor didn’t fall into that category anymore.

“Oh, I like that _very_ much, cher,” he purred, his hand meeting Angel’s bare skin without any sense of reservation or discomfort. Angel whined and writhed, embarrassed at how hard he’d gotten already but not trying to escape.

“Hang on. Lemme…do somethin’ for you too.” He tried reaching back with his free hands to grope between Alastor’s legs—but the Radio Demon moved away before he could.

“That’s not necessary.” The shadows in the room came to life and bound Angel’s wrists in front of him so he couldn’t reach. With a snap of Alastor’s fingers, the room went utterly pitch black, forcing Angel to feel everything else even more. It seemed unfair that with hardly any experience, he was still doing everything just right. “If you want to please me, speak to me, moan for me—sing for me if you like. I can promise no one else will hear. And I intend to keep it that way.”

So there was a little possessiveness in him somewhere. Not that Angel minded. Even if it wasn’t the same kind of sex he was used to having, he was still 100% engaged and eager to do whatever he could to make it good for his partner too. He moaned wantonly, trying and failing to keep his hips still, dropping his head back against Alastor’s shoulder just to be closer to him. The Radio Demon chuckled at his enthusiasm and nibbled along his neck, sharp teeth deliciously dangerous against soft skin.

“Harder,” Angel whispered, and he obliged without hesitation, biting down hard enough that Angel was sure he would have a bruise—but he still wasn’t satisfied. “I said _harder_ , honey.”

Alastor hummed his approval and sank his teeth viciously into Angel’s neck, the force enough to buckle his knees. Good thing he was kneeling already. Al made a point of lapping up whatever blood he’d spilled, even gathering a few stray drops with his fingers and licking it off. Meaning that when his hand slid between Angel’s legs again, it was slick and wet, enough to pull a shocked cry of pleasure from his lips.

“I didn’t…I really didn’t expect you to be this good,” he laughed shakily.

“No? What did you expect?” Alastor’s other hand slid up the curve of his waist and into the thick fur of his chest to banish any space between them. “I’m curious, _chéri_ : what have you been imagining?”

“Well. I figured you’d be kinda…forceful like this,” Angel answered, trying to distract himself from the slow strokes on his heated flesh, the way Alastor’s fingertips seemed to be mapping out every curve of his body. So calm, so thorough, and shockingly effective. “But, uh…I dunno, maybe a little clumsy? So much for that.” It was also surprising him how difficult holding a conversation was; normally guys weren’t interested in _talking_ to him, especially in bed.

“Why bother doing a thing if you aren’t going to do it well, that’s what I always say.” Alastor took his hand away, and Angel almost whined, almost begged him to keep going—but his breath caught as something else curled around his erection, something slender and flexible like a… _Like a shadow tentacle_ , he realized. _Holy shit._ The Radio Demon was apparently kinkier than he let on, but Angel could hardly complain when it all felt so good.

As his body was burning up and he was really losing track of his breath, he rested his head back against Alastor’s shoulder and turned to murmur into his ear. “Will you, uh, kiss me again?”

“Hmm. You like having your mouth full that much?” Al teased, and a shiver of hot embarrassment (and something else) rushed through Angel’s stomach.

“Well, I”—he swallowed hard—“I like when it’s your tongue.”

Alastor let out a low groan and held him even tighter. “Whatever you need, chéri.” One of his hands found its way into Angel’s hair again, and this time his kiss was brutal, bruising, urgent. Perfect. But he was no slouch at multitasking, his shadow magic just as precise and attentive as his hand was, and all this friction between Angel’s legs and lips was driving him out of his mind.

Remembering what Al had said about wanting to hear him, he didn’t bother stifling his moans, not for a second, his pitch and volume rising every moment that Alastor toyed with him. _Fuck, it’s so hot. I can’t handle it! I…_ He could hardly even keep his own thoughts straight, too lost in feeling every single second of this, getting closer and closer until his willpower finally broke and he came with a breathy scream. His instinct was to pull away to catch his breath, but Alastor kept him trapped, apparently content to swallow every deep, desperate whimper that slipped out of his lips as he rode out his orgasm.

Eventually, after several more seconds of enjoying his mouth, Alastor drew away and let him gasp for air but still refused to allow any space between them. He even nuzzled his lips slowly against Angel’s neck, and a different, totally non-sexual warmth flooded through him. “That…that was… Uh, wow,” he laughed, and Alastor snickered along with him.

“Good to know my ‘weirdness about sex’ didn’t ruin it for you.”

“No way. It was better,” Angel told him without thinking. “Maybe just cuz it was you.”

“Ahem!” He could imagine Alastor’s bashful smile, which was very slightly different from his nervous smile or his apprehensive one.

“So?” Angel shifted carefully to sit up, tugging at the bonds still holding his wrists. “You gonna let me spend the night or…?”

“Let you? I would be bothered if you didn’t. Besides.” With another snap of Alastor’s fingers, a lamp in the corner glowed to life, casting soft red light across the room. Shouldn’t that be creepy? Unnerving? Angel felt totally comfortable. “I think you’d find it difficult to get upstairs in your state.” To illustrate, he pushed Angel forward lightly, and he easily collapsed against the bed, shaky now that he was no longer being supported.

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya,” he answered, wriggling out of his shorts and kicking them, along with his boots, to the floor.

“Oh, is that something else you enjoy? I’ll keep it in mind.” After stripping out of his coat and hanging it in the closet, Alastor unfastened his cuffs and unbuttoned his shirt a little, then came to crawl into bed still mostly dressed. Angel decided not to question it; if that was how he was comfortable, then fine. When he noticed Angel’s shaking wasn’t stopping, he tilted his head to one side and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” Angel tried to still himself, hoping not to ruin the mood after everything had gone so well. “I’m fine. Just…tryna calm down.” That was a pretty intense session, after all, so his body and mind were still a little overwhelmed.

“I see.” Moving slightly closer without touching him, Alastor instead asked, “Would you like to be near me while you do so?”

His reflexive and honest answer was _yes, please_ —but he hesitated to speak it, not wanting to come off clingy or weak. “I mean, you don’t hafta do that. If you gimme a couple minutes, I’ll—”

“You aren’t answering my question, cher,” Alastor pointed out, very carefully brushing his thumb over Angel’s cheek. Even that tiny bit of gentle affection was a huge comfort after so much intensity. Angel’s resistance quickly broke.

“Yeah. I would.” He wriggled a little closer under the covers to put himself in Alastor’s arms, and the Radio Demon held him without question, stroking his hair and humming to him softly while he slowly relaxed. So weird. So different. But different in a way Angel could definitely see himself getting used to. “You better be careful, honey. Keep bein’ this nice to me and I might start gettin’ confused about what you actually want here.”

“That would make two of us,” Alastor answered quietly. But he didn’t back away, didn’t get uncomfortable, didn’t kick Angel out of his bed. He didn’t make any effort to insist that this was just about sex (since it obviously wasn’t) or that Angel shouldn’t get his hopes up for anything more. Which was a good thing, because as he leaned down for another kiss—slow and soft this time—Angel’s hopes were rising higher and higher all the time. How long had it been since he’d felt hopeful about _anything_? He wasn’t even sure what he expected to happen, but damn it: he’d forgotten how good it felt to believe in something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did have another chapter planned, but I've gotten so thoroughly engrossed in Giardino Segreto at this point that I don't think I'll ever get around to writing it. That said, I'd like to think we've still left our tentative lovers in a pretty good place~.


End file.
